Not A Real Man

Not A Real Man

He claims not to be bad at all.

“Well, would you cook for your wife?” I ask

“I don’t have a wife yet, but I’ve cooked with a girlfriend if that counts”

After reading ‘A Man To Go With My Furniture’, The Rackster got an itch that needed to be scratched. I am not one to stop a man from scratching wherever they itch. So, I’m dragging him here and giving him the chance to scratch away.

The following are The Rackster’s words:


“Baba, that’s dangerous.” My mother would start

“He’s a boy let him play, they learn by getting hurt.” One of her friends would interject

So I grew up knowing a man is his scars, if I did not have scars I wasn’t a man. But I didn’t complain, it was fun. Showing off just where the bike chain took a chunk of your flesh on your already skinny calf or the bruise on your arm when your front tire accidentally touched the back tire of another bicycle during a race and you got thrown off skidding on the tarmac. It was all fun and games and a vault for stories for my children – should I decide I wanted any.

You see, as a boy, girls were the last thing on my mind. I had other issues to think about – like my grades. All I knew was what I’d been told, work hard in school and build a future for your family. You think you’ll never have one? A family? You’re wrong, you will have one, a wife and beautiful children. Not child, children because I’m African and one is not enough. So I worked hard and studied and got good grades ignoring the blossoming girls because they were the devil.

Along the way studies got boring and I was allowed to have fun. A boy should have fun, have a cold drink, flirt with girls and dance with drunk women. It’s just fun. Should I take one home? It’s not frowned upon, in fact I get a stripe on my shirt. A job well done. I need to test the waters before I swim. Have you ever seen a professional that didn’t spend years training? Society asked. The answer is no, you’ve never seen them. I couldn’t ask what I was training for I needed to know by then. I didn’t ask why the girl I went home with was branded all sorts of name, why she was shunned, why the same training did not apply to her. So as soon as she was shunned society did not want me to be seen with her. You want your name to be tarnished? No. Then stay away from her during the day, in the cover of darkness you are allowed to dabble a little bit but never too much.

Don’t let their beauty deceive you, they have hidden agendas. Remember Eve? See what she did to Adam, you can’t trust them. Society told me I couldn’t trust women so I had to ask; what about my mother? Can I trust her? Yes, only her. But what about the family that should be in the horizon, what about her, my future wife? You are a foolish young man, you don’t know women – you wait. Meanwhile don’t forget your training, you need experience. So I had to ask society what I needed experience for; a woman I will never trust? You wait, was the reply.

But I don’t want to wait for a deceptive and manipulative devil that will give me hell. You want people to think you are different? A man without a family? A woman by his side? People will talk and they will say all these things about you. They will speculate about your sexuality, your mother will sit you down and introduce you to her friends’ daughters. You don’t want that so after you finish training settle with one that the others have never trained with. I wanted to ask why I had to find one that other men hadn’t trained with. Society told me that they are tainted, they are loose, and they are promiscuous. A real woman wouldn’t let a man train. You are a real man aren’t you? A real man needs a real woman.

Then what happens when I find this ‘real woman’ and marry her and have kids but I am not happy? Society looked at me and called me stupid. You are stupid! What have you been training for? Get another one on the side. But another one on the side would break her heart, after all those solemn vows I reasoned. But society would hear none of that. I have to break her heart and make her feel worthless that’s the position of a woman. Send her to the kitchen when you come home late drunk, it’s your money isn’t it? Make her cook good food and if she doesn’t get someone who will.

The House help will do just fine. See how she has a supple behind and full breasts. Touch her buttocks when no one is looking and tickle her ribs when she is bent over the gas cooker or ironing your shirts. She will laugh, when she laughs she is yours. You can have her anytime even when your wife is away at work or even in the other rom sound asleep. Say you went for a long call. Sooner or later she will find out but they are women, they are unreasonable she will blame the house help and chase her away and all you have to do is shrug your shoulders and walk away.

What society wants of me is too much. So no I will not train. It’s not a competition. I am happy untrained. Why would I want to see another woman broken when I’d hate to see the same for my mother? How would I explain the same things to my daughter when she sees how I treat the mother? Calling her my little princess because I am her king until she asks me if her mother isn’t a queen.

“Then why do you treat her like a slave?”

Her innocence would destroy me.

So no society, I already have scars in my life because I was a boy’s boy, but now I don’t want to be a real man. I don’t want to see tears in the eyes of a woman I am supposed to love. I don’t want to practice promiscuity and tag it on my prowess. I don’t want to inflict emotional scars on another human being. I don’t want to be the reason my college mate drops out because she was an aftermath of my training. You’re playing us against each other, maybe you’re some sick twisted bastard that gets off on discord. Watch me walk away, call me gay, an unreal man, and anything else you want to call me. Shun me, I’ll wear my shame with pride.

The Rackster blogs at

Image Credit


13 thoughts on “Not A Real Man

Leave a Reply to Renee Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *